Apocalyptic
by nonyvole
Summary: Prompt response: What if Steve Rogers woke up to a post World War Three world? Dark.
1. Chapter 1

Prompt response: What if Steve Rogers woke up to a post World War Three world? Dark, everybody has some sort of issue. Nothing from the Marvel Universe is mine. Few comic characters show up, but mostly movie-verse.

* * *

Steve thought he was hallucinating. Hunger, that was it, hunger and fatigue and having walked for who knew how many days and who knew how many miles ending up who knew where. All that added up to a very realistic hallucination of a wooden barricade, the smell of smoke and cooking food, and the shouts of human voices. Looking up, he decided that it was a very good hallucination, indeed, since there were also people there, including a very grim looking man holding a bow with the arrow pointing straight at his head and a woman standing next to him holding a knife.

"Name." The woman called down. "Origin, destination."

Steve opened his mouth, but nothing came out – it wasn't that he'd forgotten how to talk, really, but what was the point, if there was nobody to hear him? Watching as the man's jaw tightened and the bowstring was drawn back just that much further, he finally managed, "I don't understand?"

The man leaned over, eyes not leaving Steve, and held a brief whispered conversation with the woman. Standing up straight, she elaborated. "Your name, where you're from, and where you're going."

That Steve understood. "Steve Rogers, Captain in the US Army. I'm from Brooklyn, New York. And I've no idea where I'm going, I'm just trying to find out what's going on." He jumped, then, as a rope slammed into the wall in front of him.

"Climb." The woman called down. "Try anything, and he's got enough arrows here to make it so that you're nothing but a pincushion by the time you hit the ground."

"Like to see you try, folks," Steve muttered, grabbing the rope and climbing up. Hands reached out, grabbing at his clothes and helping him over the top. He could feel those same hands pat him down at the same time, and he let them, until the hands started pulling at his shield. "Leave that one alone, please." _Very_ realistic hallucination, Steve decided. He wondered if he was actually lying on the ground someplace, about to die.

"So, Steve Rogers, Captain in the US Army, whatever the hell that is, from Brooklyn, wherever the hell that is, why do you think you can give us orders?" The arrowhead was uncomfortably close to Steve's eye. "After all, he's the one with the arrow, and I'm the one with the knife."

The woman had a logical argument, Steve would admit. "Because the last thing I remember is it being 1943, and I'm crashing a plane into the Arctic, then I woke up to find myself in a forest, my shield is the only thing I've got."

"You got strange idea of what is and in't yours." The arrow slackened, slightly, as the man finally spoke. "Mockingbird?"

"Remember that kids' story of Cap 'Merica? He's got the shield, the suit, and he knows the date. Might actually be true."

"Huh." The man didn't take his eyes off Steve. "Leggo. Slow."

Steve followed the woman – Mockingbird, he remembered, and what an odd name that was – with the man following, arrow still pointing straight at him. "Can I ask something?"

"Just did, but can." Steve was trying to place the man's accent, but couldn't figure anything out.

"Where am I, when is it, what is going on, and who are you?" Steve couldn't hold back his questions. "Last thing I remember, it's 1943, I'm crashing a plane into a very frozen ocean."

"'M Hawkeye." The man said. "She Mockingbird. _We_ are walking to Hatten, no idea about a date, you wanna talk to the Boss or Agent for that. But sound like you been sleepin for a while, if you don't 'member. Now shut up."

Steve kept his eyes moving around; things were looking slightly familiar, and he wondered why. They passed through a tunnel, then things started to become even more odd. For a forest, Steve thought, everything was surprisingly...linear, and he thought he got hints of buildings through the trees.

"Stop." Hawkeye ordered. "Mockingbird."

The woman let out a loud yell, almost a yodel, and Hawkeye relaxed. "You know, Hawkeye, just because _you_ can see the all clear..."

"Next time, you walk with bow." Hawkeye's voice was affectionate. "We got cover, he is play'n fair, and I ain't had to draw bow that long in ages." His voice firmed up. "'Kay then, we still walking. Not that we don't trust you...but we don't trust you."

"Huh." Steve muttered. "This is becoming too strange to be a hallucination. Ow!" He jumped as an arrow poked him in the back.

"Mornin', sunshine. This ain't a 'lucination, welcome to the real world." Hawkeye moved up to walk next to Steve. "Hatten." He waved his hand around in demonstration. "After the bombs, after all 'lectric wen' way. Gran Centr'l, all in."

Steve had to force his legs to keep moving. "Grand Central Station? Manhattan?" Hawkeye's accent had slurred everything together. "Bombs?"

"Talk to Agent. Or scientists, they nuts enough to want to 'member." Hawkeye shrugged. "Me, don't care, as long as I got Mockingbird, something to eat, 'n someplace safe to sleep."

"Time was, you would've." Mockingbird gently slapped Hawkeye's shoulder. "Of course, time was, you actually used your brain. Although don't worry, babe, I don't recognize what he's saying, either. It's not you."

"Time was," Hawkeye bit out, "I didn't have a hole in it. Time was, I coul' _talk_ and folk's'd _know_."

"I understand you." Steve felt obliged to say. "It's just...I've not been around people since I woke up until now." He kept scanning the room, and stopped when he saw somebody that looked familiar. "Howard?" He ignored Hawkeye and Mockingbird as he started to head over to the man. "Howard!"

The man flinched, not turning around. "For the last time, my name is _Tony_, bird brains, when will you finally learn that? Dad's _dead_. He's not coming back. I'm sorry that his little experiment meant that you've got issues, Clint, but stop blaming me for them. I've got enough problems of my own."

"Weren't us, Tony." Hawkeye drawled. "Myst'ry Man here, says his name's Steve from Bookyn. Mockingbird thinks he could be Cap 'Merca."

"Ah." Tony slowly turned around. "So, mystery man who looks astonishingly like things my dearly not lamented father left behind, what's your name?"

"Captain Steve Rogers, US Army. I'm from Brooklyn." Steve was starting to feel frustrated. "And can somebody tell me what's going _on_ here?"

"Go talk to somebody else, I'm busy here." Tony waved them away irritably. "I may have figured out a battery, but need to talk with Bruce about it and he's off downtown, waiting for the right time to try and get to Ellis Island without letting the Shore folks know."

"Just don't blow the place up, Tony." Mockingbird wrapped her arm around Hawkeye's. "And since you've already heard Clint's real name, mystery man, I'm Bobbi. Nice to meetcha."

"Ma'am," Steve nodded. "Clint, goes by Hawkeye. Bobbi, goes by Mockingbird. Tony...Stark?"

"Don' let him hear that." Clint nodded. "Man got anger problems."

"You don't help, babe." Bobbi lightly scolded. "Especially when you start shooting arrows at his stuff."

Steve had to hold back a laugh at Clint's wordless whine, as the two escorted him deeper into the terminal. A nod from Bobbi had a pair of what were obviously security guards opening a door.

"Hawkeye and Mockingbird, where's the Widow?" A voice came from a chair.

"Lurking someplace, as usual." Bobbi said. "Found someone you might be interested in, sir. He says he's from 1943 Brooklyn, Captain Steve Rogers."

"US Army?" A man moved closer, taking a close look at Steve. "Ah. Well then. Welcome to the year 2020, Captain. It's an honor. I'm Agent Coulson. Call me Coulson."

"Agent." Clint snorted, drawing a small giggle from Bobbi. "All 'bout name."

"Easier for _some_ people to say, obviously." Coulson had obviously used that line before, Steve thought, based on how quickly he responded. "Although if _some_ people would just listen, and follow the instructions of the scientists, maybe _some_ people wouldn't have issues with words that have more than two syllables."

"Mock-ing-bird." Clint clearly said, leaning forward. "No prob."

"And yet, you can't say Coul-son." Coulson shot back. "Besides, it's not good if you can't say your own wife's name, right? Try saying _fundamental_."

Bobbi coughed, lightly. "You two can have this out another time. Coulson, new guy?"

"Please?" Steve was confused and lost. "It's 2020? That's nearly 80 years that I've missed?"

"Yes, well," Coulson glanced at Clint and Bobbi. "Bobbi, can you go get Tony, please? Clint, you just sit there and be quiet. Steve, you sit down, too. Tony has information that he hasn't shared with the rest of us, maybe he'll share it with you." As Bobbi left the room, Coulson moved around, lighting candles. "So, 1943. World War Two ended in 1945, when the US dropped two atomic bombs on Japan, and that started an arms race the likes of which the world had never seen before. Everybody wanted their own nuclear bomb, everybody wanted to be the ones with the biggest bomb. Have you seen the moon yet? No matter, you will eventually. But everybody also wanted to be the ones in control."

"And so they kept on making bigger and bigger bombs, because obviously the threat of nuclear warfare worked out _so_ well as a preventative." Tony slammed the door shut behind him. "Only problem was, all the spies kept on stealing secrets, so the minute that one country had the biggest bomb, all the others had the same thing. Coulson, I told these people that I was busy."

"You can't get any further until Bruce gets back, Tony, and you've been working for nearly a day straight now. We ran out of coffee two weeks ago, so you can't do your usual until the scavenging team gets back."

"Fascinating. I'll get right on finding a substitute...oh wait, thanks to Fury, I _can't_." Tony's voice was flat. "Shove it, featherbrains. If I want to be mad at Fury, I can be mad at Fury." Steve realized that Clint was growling, and Bobbi was tense. "So why did you want me in on storytime?"

"Because maybe you can tell me what happened?" Steve threw out, wanting to lessen the tension in the room. "And Coulson said that you knew things that he didn't."

"Ah yes. Ask the pacifist to describe a war." Tony started to slowly pace, the candlelight flickering across his face. "What is war. War is ugly. You know that, you were in the last war that could even be considered even remotely polite, when compared to what followed. World War Three. A nuclear holocaust the likes of which nobody could have imagined. The entire Midwest, turned to glass. From the Mississippi river to the Rocky Mountains, nobody can even think about entering that part of the world for at least another century. Last we heard from Europe, everybody was dead or dying. Except for England, which has become incredibly feudal, think back to the stories of kings and knights and serfs. King John isn't the nicest of monarchs, but he's better than his mother was; rumor had it she bombed all of Ireland one day because she was bored. No clue about the rest of the world; it's just too far away. With me?" At Steve's nod, he continued. "So, who had the biggest bomb, who 'won' the war. Obviously, nobody really won it; the entire world lost. But thanks to my father and a collection of men who shall remain nameless, the US had developed a metal that made everything that much bigger."

"So, wait." Steve interrupted. "We did all this," he waved his hand around, "to ourselves?"

"Give the man a prize." Tony snapped.

"Tony." Coulson interrupted. "Everything happened so quickly, and so long ago, that not a lot of people these days remember a time when you could flip a switch and get light. Hop in the car for a Sunday drive. Go to the store for a can of beans. That sort of thing. Most of this happened in the 70s."

Steve saw Clint nudging Bobbi out of the corner of his eye when the silence started to drag on. "And the rest happened about a decade later," she threw out.

"Yes, once the Midwest was bombed, a truce was called. No official end of hostilities, mind you," Coulson shook his head, "just an agreement that there wouldn't be any more nuclear weapons."

"Unfortunately." Tony's shoulders were tight. "My father. Again. Just because he couldn't play with radiation, didn't mean he couldn't play with other things. And he did." He whirled, hearing a snort. "Shut _up_, Clint."

"Don't. Blame. You." Clint leaned forward, clearly enunciating his words. "Blame your dad. _Like_ you. _Trust_ you."

"And I'll _fix_ it, one of these days." Tony ran his hand through his hair. "Where was I. Yeah. EMP."

"EMP?" Steve didn't understand the term.

"Electromagnetic pulse. It wiped out everything, sent us back to before Ben Franklin had the great idea of sending a kite up in a thunderstorm with a key attached." Tony shook his head. "That, combined with the loss of most of the world's population, meant that we've been a little...stuck. For about thirty years now." He waved at Clint and Bobbi. "These two, for example. Sure, they've got some memories, but nothing at the same level as Coulson and I. The most the bird brains can remember is electric lights, heating, refrigeration. More on a level of what you're probably familiar with, but they can't remember what it all _means_. How good are your memories from when you were ten?"

"Howard kept working, though, saying that he knew how to fix everything." Coulson took up the thread of the conversation. "Unfortunately, there were a few...accidents along the way. One of which ended up taking his life."

"My father," Tony announced bitterly, "was nuts. He didn't let anybody or anything get in his way on his quest for perfection, for the next great miracle. _He's_ the reason we're like this today. Anybody surprised? No? Good. He swore, until he zapped himself one too many times, that SHIELD had it, _it_ being the key to at least getting a little bit of juice back, if not being able to light up the whole world. Well, SHIELD's bases have been explored, at least the ones that Fury will let us into, and the Helicarrier happens to be a few hundred feet below sea level, so searching that is right out."

"_Been_ in all." Clint spoke up. "Nothing. Widow looked. Nothing. I think."

"Yes, well," Tony finally sat down with a low hiss, rubbing at his leg. "I'll figure it out. I _know_ I'm close, I just haven't finished reading all his damn journals yet. And on that note, happy campers, which one of you wants to help me out? Bird brains and half-blind hermits excluded, so Captain Relic, that means you." He reached down, and Steve watched as he rolled up his pants leg. "It may look real, but it gets a little sore after too long. Catch." Steve awkwardly caught what turned out to be a fake leg. "And now, my living crutch, onwards and downwards, I'll even spot you the subway fare this time."

* * *

"Why is it," Steve was half-carrying Tony down a flight of stairs, "that you all seem to truly believe that I'm not just making everything up?"

"Simple." Tony held up his hand, panting slightly, and Steve responded to the unspoken request to stop. "Coulson. Clint and Bobbi follow him around like two puppies and what he believes, they believe, and he's of the firm opinion that you are Captain America, the legend of old. Bit of hero worship there, maybe, don't know. My father had pictures in his things of you and nobody would ever dream of wearing that get up these days, especially since the good ol' US of A is no longer around, let alone willingly say that they were from 1943. You were his one success, incidentally, he'd say that all the damn time." Tony's breathing evened out, and he nodded. "Okay. Bruce will question it, but he questions everything, and the Widow...nobody can predict her. She just thinks what she wants to think, does what she wants to do. She's probably insane, but in the manner that you give her an objective, she'll get it done, even if she comes limping in three weeks later. Just don't point her at anybody friendly, and if you need to redirect her...attentions, tell her to go find Jim; he's the poor guy that pissed off Coulson. Let's go, these stairs don't get any shorter."

"What about that other person you were talking about. Fury?" Steve started moving again. "What's his deal?"

"Gotta love the naïve." Tony nodded. "Fury, you ask three different people about him, you'll get three different answers. Clint's devoted to the man, Bobbi and Coulson just as much. I can't stand him, because I'm of the firm opinion that he had a very, very large role in bringing the world to this state. After all, he encouraged my father. Bruce is pretty neutral; he owes Fury a bit, but knows that owing a debt isn't the same as being owned. Widow...she's nuts, who knows. But you'll have to meet him and form your own opinion. Just should warn you, don't be swayed by a few pretty words. Turn left here."

Steve helped Tony drop into a bed, making sure that a candle and Tony's leg were both within reach. "Thanks for the information, Tony. I know that I've got a lot to think over."

"Do." Tony was rubbing his leg. "One other thing, because the knuckleheads upstairs won't think to tell you. Don't go out after dark. And as much as I love to say otherwise, those three are probably the safest people for you to be around for now. I'm not counting myself in because you can't use a one-legged guy in a fight too well. Clint and Bobbi are damned good fighters, and Coulson can hold his own, even though he barely leaves that room these days and can't see more than three feet in front of his own face. Let them all tell you their stories, but it always seems to come back to the same person."

"Your father?" Steve headed for the stairs.

"My father." Tony nodded. Watching as Steve left the room, he sighed. "Welcome to the new world, Captain America. Too bad you didn't stay asleep."


	2. Chapter 2

Natasha knows some. Little bit of levity.

* * *

"I'm not nearly as nuts as they say I am." The voice had Steve jumping, glancing around. "But I've been around since before all this happened, and it's just...easier to pretend. To forget what was, and what could have been." A woman emerged from the shadows. "Natasha Romanoff. I'm the one they call the Widow." She held out her hand, sitting down on the mattress that Steve had been told he could use. "And you are the great Captain America, Steve Rogers himself. I must admit, you age well."

Steve shook her hand. "Thank you, ma'am. If you don't mind my asking,"

Natasha laughed, and Steve caught a bitter edge to it. "You and I, Captain, were both the results of a science experiment. They just had less of an interest in making me...large. We were probably both born around the same time, no? Tell me," she curled her legs up, "could you ever see something like this happening in our lifetimes?"

"Rightfully couldn't, although there were times that it seemed to be coming close." Steve sat down as well. "Can you tell me about everything here?"

"Mmm." Natasha hummed. "The high – or low – points were all hit in Coulson's room. Except that they don't know that England is starting to spread out, becoming what it had been historically, sailing ships and all. Europe is much less damaged than they think, although yes, the mass graves are terrible to see. Howard Stark, no matter how much you feel that you owe him, is truly the root cause behind much of this; had he left it all alone then there may have been a nuclear war, but then he kept going, so sure in his ideas, and that was what made the world go dark." She laughed. "Although, he may have had some...help. A single explosion, even on the Helicarrier, the flying ship of a shadow American government organization, would not have affected more than a few hundred miles. So why is China now gone? Brazil? There were people who had sought refuge in Chile, practically in Antarctica, nothing has been heard of from them, although I have not traveled that far south. Maybe one day." She stared off into the darkness, contemplating. "Maybe you would like to travel, as well." She stood up, twirling. "It all comes back to the same thing, full circle. Tony's leg, Clint's voice, Coulson's eyes, Bobbi's guilt, Bruce's...psyche. All the result of a man wanting to _fix_ the world, wanting to make life the way it had been, back to a time where a young Natasha could stand in line to see the prima after the ballet with her mother, a time where Steve could go see a baseball game, followed by a trip to Coney Island to watch the girls frolic on the sand." Stopping, she stared at Steve. "I've been through the wastelands, I've traveled the world. It's been a long time for this Widow, and she's getting _tired_ of it. I tried to get involved, once, listening to Howard, listening to Fury, and now? Now I watch over the son, I watch over the successors, all in a vain attempt to pay for my sins."

"Your sins?" Steve echoed, watching as Natasha started dancing around the room. "Were you part of all this?"

Natasha giggled. "Oh yes. Because what else could a Widow do, when her home is all gone? Turned to a radioactive wasteland, people dead and dying, survivors all crammed into boxes of refuges run by the remains of the government? I had seen it all, and I got to watch the end from my gilded cage, high above the ground before it all went crashing down." She spun around one more time, sitting down next to Steve with a thump. "And now? Now Natasha is almost all gone, the Widow all that remains, full of self-hatred and the desire to make things _right_. So she plays along with what everybody thinks, vanishes for weeks at a time, travels the world as best she can, trying to find out just where there might be the solution hinted at in Stark's memories. And yes, more than a little crazy at times." Standing up, she curtsied gracefully. "Good night, Captain. Sleep well." She vanished.

"Good night?" Steve tried to see where Natasha had gone.

"And just think, Captain," her voice seemed to come from all around him, making Steve shudder. "There is more than one shield here now."

* * *

Voices woke Steve; he recognized Bobbi's, and thought she sounded upset. "Why won't you at least _try_, Clint? I _can't_ help you if you keep shutting me out. And you're shutting everybody out these days, too. Why?" A dull thump. "I'm your _wife_, I _love_ you, you big idiot, and you're shutting me out again. Why?" A second dull thump. "Clint, will you at least say _something_?"

"_Scared_." The thumps increased, and Steve stood up, moving to the doorway. "D...do not...want to lose you. Too. Lost Nat. Lost Bar, Barney, Jane. Gonna lose Cl, Co, _Agent_. You the only whole one _left_."

"Then _talk_ to me." Bobbi's voice was pleading. "I _want_ to help you. I _need_ to help you."

"You have guilt." Clint's voice was harsh. "Don' like tha. Not your fault. _You not there_. Nothing to do. Don' wanna talk no more."

Steve ducked back into the shadows of the room as Bobbi stalked by, hurriedly swiping at her face with a sleeve. Glancing back out and not seeing anybody, he moved towards where he could hear the thumps and Clint's low growling. He stopped when he saw the room – somebody had propped mattresses against the walls, and Clint was punching one, anger clear on his face.

"Knew a kid who stuttered, once." Steve started, not moving away from the door. "He didn't say much, because he was afraid of being seen as stupid."

Clint just grunted. "Not stupid. Know that." Leaning his forehead against the mattress, he didn't look at Steve. "M'head broke. Know that too. Not my fault, not Bobbi's fault. She feeln' guilt, 'cause she not there when I got hurt, when I woke up. Lotta people hurt that day. Me. Tony. Agent." He sat down, leaning against the wall. "C'mon in." When Steve sat down next to the other man, Clint nodded, then reached up and pulled off his hat. "See? Damaged."

Steve couldn't hold back his discomfort at the sight of the scar running along the side of Clint's head. Clint just grunted, pulling the hat back on. "How long ago was it?"

"Long 'nough." Clint shrugged. "New prob, though. Why Bobbi upset. Getting _worse_. More just talk, now. Can't 'member all words to say." He sighed. "First, word here or there. Bad...bad..." He tilted his head back against the wall. "_you_ know. Stroke. Head. Blend? Slide?"

"Slurring?" Steve offered.

"Yeah. That. No prob. Then long words hard. Meh. Now? Got worse, _fast_. Hard for me, more hard for Bobbi. Kids gonna grow up, think dad's _stupid_."

"You have children?" Steve reassessed the entire situation, and took a good look at Clint, actually doing the math in his mind.

"Yeah." Clint grinned. "Six. C'mon."

Steve thought as he followed Clint. "So, uh, do people still write?"

"Yeah." Clint stared at Steve curiously. "Not lots, but some."

"Do you?" Steve wasn't sure just why he wanted to make these suggestions, but at Clint's nod, he forged on. "Do you...lose words...when you write?"

"Cap, could _kiss_ you." The look on Clint's face suggested that nobody had thought of that. "Was stupid. _All_ were stupid. Need work, but can try."

"You might have had other things to think about." Steve shrugged. "The kid who stuttered liked to write out the important things."

"Huh." Clint looked thoughtful, opening a door. "Hi, chillin." Steve watched, as Clint, laughing, was buried under a pile of kids. "Pax! Pax!" Clint forced himself up, grabbing at a couple of the smallest. "Cap, kids. Kids, Cap. Eight, nine?"

Steve watched as the two children Clint was holding twisted around, staring at him and giving him small waves. "It's nice to meet you." He nodded. "I'm Steve Rogers."

"Daddy, why is he dressed funny?" A third child tugged at Clint's elbow, staring at Steve.

"Francis, be nice." Bobbi moved next to Clint, leaning in and giving him a kiss. "And what have I said about calling them by numbers?"

"Not to face. They don' care." Clint shrugged, putting the children back on the ground. "'Kay, things, be good."

"Why did you call them eight and nine?" Steve watched Clint and Bobbi as they watched the kids run around. "I thought you said you had six?"

"Six living." Bobbi nodded. "An illness ran through, took one of ours a few years back. Another died not long after birth, the third in an accident." She didn't look as upset as Steve would have thought she'd be. "And it's a fact of life these days, Steve, people die. Kids die. We've heard the stories about medicines that could've helped, machines that could've helped. But all that's just...gone. It hurts at first, yes, but you can't dwell on the what-if's, the might-have-beens." She shrugged. "Scrounged up some clothes for you, and you can have Clint's hot water allotment to get a bath in. Because frankly, Captain, you stink."

"Please, call me Steve. And thank you kindly, ma'am." Steve nodded. "And I understand about losing kids. I almost died a fair few times when I was little because of things that couldn't be fixed."

"Cap, idea." Clint swung Bobbi up, tossing her over his shoulder with a grin at her small shriek. "_Good_ idea, babe." He turned around, so that Bobbi was at eye level with Steve. "I kiss him, be wrong, you do it." When Bobbi didn't move, he lightly slapped her thigh. "Well?"

"Clint, you," Bobbi started. "What idea?"

"_Write_. No talk, keep words." The glee in Clint's voice was infectious, as Bobbi started to smile. "See?"

Bobbi grabbed at Steve's shoulder, pulling him close and giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. "There. He's been kissed. Now let me _down_, you nut! You're going to squish ten!"

"Ten?" Clint tilted his head to the side, then swung Bobbi around, cradling her in his arms. "Bye." He walked off. Steve could hear Bobbi giggling.

"I don't try to understand them any more." Steve turned around, seeing Tony leaning against the wall. "I've know them for years, and they are two of the most carefree people that you'll meet; they've adapted better than some of us, but all this _is_ pretty much just what they know. Not like the rest of us." He sighed. "And they breed like...like..."

"Like rabbits?" Steve suggested.

"Exactly. It's disgusting. But I don't care. I just want to _fix_ all this, or at least make it so that we don't have to fear the dark anymore. Bruce has suggested that we've all got our issues, and yeah, we do, just like we've all got our ways of dealing with it. Tell me, Cap, what's your problem? Need to have one to fit in here with the cool kids. Physical, mental, but you can't be just plain nuts, that's the Widow's gig."

"How would I know?" Steve looked at Tony.

"You'll figure it out. Bruce is back, he wants to talk to you. Don't stare, he looks a little different."

* * *

Different was an understatement, Steve decided. Bruce looked slightly green. And the first words out of Bruce's mouth were "Don't make me angry. I've had a long week and Tony doesn't shut up if the Other Guy ends up coming out here."

"Nice to meet you," Steve fell back on the manners that his mother had drilled into him. "Captain Steve Rogers."

"I know. Bruce Banner. Scientist. Hard to believe that you survived for 77 years frozen in ice, so pardon me if I don't completely believe you and keep you far away from my work until I know that you're not here to spy on us. Tony, I finally got that stuff that you were looking for, but the Shore folks saw me, so I don't think that we'll be able to get back to Ellis Island anytime soon. They were starting their chants, so wherever Clint and Bobbi are, they're going to need to start heading down that way to fix up the defenses."

"They're off doing whatever it is they do after Bobbi says that she's about to sprout another one. Cap here gave them some other good news, so they've probably vanished for the next day or two."

"Shore folks?" Steve glanced between Tony and Bruce. "Defenses?"

"History lesson two." Tony glanced around, then sat on the floor, motioning for the other two to join him. "What was once Manhattan is now SHIELD territory. The rest of the habitable land around here has been divided up through fighting and truces into other little territories. The Shore is a group that thinks that we're the root of all evil and must be eradicated. Personally, I think they're all nuts, if they'd just leave us alone, maybe not try and kill our messengers who travel under a flag of peace, then we'd be more willing to share what we've got and what we come up with."

"Nobody has quite figured out just why they've formed that opinion, because when all this first started, we were friendly. Then one day, total change, and now we're stuck sending out scavenging parties who try and avoid their patrols." Bruce shrugged. "Where did you say you came from, again?"

"1943, Bruce." Tony said. "I'll show you the pictures from my dad's trunk of stuff, and Coulson believes. So the featherheads believe, Fury hasn't seen him yet, and don't know if the Widow is even here."

"I saw her last night." Steve nodded. "She told me an interesting story."

"She talked to you?" Tony sounded surprised. "Didn't even think she knew _how_ to talk, just grunt, point, and make men into drooling idiots."

"She said," Steve tried to remember everything. "She had said that Howard may have had some help in the accident."

"Which one," Bruce didn't look at Steve. "Because there were several."

"That...EMP?" Steve saw Tony nod. "She said that a single explosion would not have affected everything. She also said something about there not being only one shield here anymore?"

"Steve, you show up and change _everything_." Tony started to stand up. "Bruce, let's go. I've an idea. Cap, you can help."

* * *

Tony blustered his way through to Coulson's room, heading for a corner. "Coulson. Widow actually knows how to talk. Need the trunk."

"Tony. Who else is with you." Coulson's voice was tense.

"Bruce and the Cap." Tony sat down, opening a metal trunk.

Steve looked around, spotting Coulson sitting on the floor in a corner, deep in shadow. "Don't you need some light, sir?" He started walking over, only to be stopped by Tony's low command.

"Doesn't make a difference." Coulson didn't move. "Only keep candles around for other people. And please don't get too close."

"We learned that the hard way, that Coulson throws knives first, asks questions later." Tony was pulling papers out and piling them on the floor. "Bruce's alter ego managed to completely destroy a building after it was discovered that Coulson only lets the birds get close without permission. And their kids."

"_Love_ the kids." Coulson sighed. "They're not nearly as messed up as everybody else, it's refreshing to talk to them and only have to listen about how Francis skinned his knee, or how Kate hit the bullseye twice, or that Jean went straight from crawling to running. Not how we're running low on supplies, or there's another virus coming through and this one means that we'll be down half of our fighting force for a week and a half, or how the pride of lions attacked _again_."

"Speaking of the bird brains, Coulson, did you know that they're expecting another one?"

"Yes. Bobbi told me. She finally told Clint, then? That's good."

"Cap also gave them a good idea for Clint and his whole aphasia thing." Tony nodded, pushing himself up. "Writing, not talking. I'm a little upset that it took a muscle-bound relic to come up with that idea, and not our best and brightest." He started heading for the door. "Let's go, you two. Leave the hermit to his...hermitage."

Steve started to follow Tony, but stopped when he heard Coulson say his name. "Yes, sir?"

"Sit down." Coulson stood up and started moving forward. Steve just held still.

"What did the Widow say to you that gave Tony this idea?"

"She said a fair bit, sir. That whatever happened wasn't just from the Helicarrier, and that there wasn't only one shield here anymore. And that Howard was trying to make everything right."

"He was." Coulson leaned forward, staring straight at Steve with a small frown on his face. "And now I have to wonder how she knows all that."

"The Widow is older than one would think, Coulson. She learned the motivations, although not the science. Thank you, Steve, for being the...ice breaker." Natasha's voice made Steve jump slightly and Coulson flinch. "Relax please, Agent Coulson. I am not out to harm anybody. I am standing ten feet behind you and to the right. My back is against the wall." Her voice took on an odd tone. "Steve, maybe you and I shall...chat again, this evening. I wish to hear stories. But for now, I wish to tell stories to Agent Coulson. And apologize, for not speaking sooner, but there was nothing to be done until now, and Tony and Bruce still could have come up with a solution."

Steve took the hint and left, going to find Tony.


	3. Chapter 3

The truth starts to come out.

* * *

"Shield. Shield." Tony was sitting at a table, one hand rapidly tapping as he flipped through papers. "Cap. You walked in here with a shield. Tell me about it."

"It's a shield?" Steve didn't know when he'd stop feeling confused. "I don't think I understand what you're asking, Tony."

"What is it made out of. Any special properties to it – does it shoot arrows, hold bandages, can you use it to start a fire. That sort of thing." Bruce didn't look up from what he was reading.

"It's metal. It's swell for doing things like stopping bullets and being thrown. I angle it just right, I can bounce it so that it comes back. Couple straps to hold it on my arm, or on my back."

"Nothing that thin is bulletproof," Tony started, then suddenly stopped. "Bruce, you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Don't know." Bruce stood up. "Tony, I'm going to go get that other journal from Coulson."

"Wait!" Tony called out, then cursed, standing up. "He never enters right...Steve, hurry. We're probably going to have to deal with Coulson and the Hulk now, too." He started to move off, then stopped, looking over his shoulder. "Well?" Continuing on, Tony pointed at a couple men standing in the hallway. "You and you. Go track down Clint and Bobbi, tell them there's a Hulk emergency. _Move_."

Steve hurried. "Hulk?"

"Bruce is one of the few survivors from the bombs, why he looks the way he does. Unfortunately, the radiation he was exposed to also...changed him. It's why we try not to make him mad or get him too worked up about damn near anything; he has a tendency to transform into the Hulk. Big, green, and angry. Great in a fight, not so great here, in our _home_." Tony didn't look at Steve. "All that we can do is try and get him outside and pointed in a direction that he won't do too much damage, or that he'll damage whatever we want destroyed, until he gets worn out enough or calm enough that he changes back into Bruce."

"Oh." Steve blinked. "Why Coulson?"

"Because the half-blind idiot always throws a knife first, if you don't give him a signal that you're actually coming in. Why those guards are there; they're supposed to pass along the all clear. But Bruce, when he's in the mood that he's been in since getting back, ignores them and the rules and just barges in. See where I'm going with this? Paranoid agoraphobic with hearing good enough to identify _where_ somebody is in his room and who knows how many knives stashed within reach, plus man who turns into a gigantic green rage monster when attacked..."

"How can I help?"

"How fast can you run?" Tony gave Steve a close look. "If we can get him outside, and heading off towards where Central Park was, it'll be better. And he can move incredibly fast."

Steve thought, then knelt down and started drawing in the dirt on the floor, hearing a roar. "Where do you have men posted outside? If we're here, Central Park is here...set up a chain, maybe?"

"How?" Tony shook his head. "We don't have anything that can communicate faster than the Hulk can move."

"Well, damn." Steve stood up. "Tell Clint and Bobbi to catch up. Clint will need his bow and arrows to help distract." He headed for where he could hear crashing and that animalistic roar. Spotting the Hulk, he stopped. "Well, I'll be." He muttered, looking around. "Hey!" He shouted, picking up a piece of rubble and throwing it at the – monster was the only word he could come up with, then sprinted for the closest exit. "I really am regretting waking up," he focused on running. "Because sure, world wasn't the greatest, but I didn't have to plan ways to deal with all _this_."

Steve ran out of breath sooner than he'd hoped, and he slid into a dark hole that he could see, hoping that the Hulk wouldn't see the movement, and that there wasn't anything in the hole that could eat him. Glancing out, he watched as an arrow bounced off the Hulk's shoulder, and the beast roared again, looking around, then moving off. He waited a couple minutes, then saw Clint wandering down the street, looking casual, and climbed out to join the other man.

"_Nice_." Clint grinned. "Best ever. No dead."

"Hulk off someplace safe?" Steve glanced around. "Then let's head back."

"Bobbi gon mad." Clint winced. "I made stay. But."

"Does she normally yell?" Steve would be the first to admit that his experiences with women were...limited. But, he supposed that if Bobbi was anything like Peggy was, Clint probably had had to learn how to be diplomatic.

Clint nodded. "She tough. But _my_ kid. Rules, not lot. All 'bout kids."

"If she yells, ask her who else would have calmed Coulson down. Tony? Not with any speed." Steve jumped as he felt a weight land on his back, legs wrapping around his waist. "Thank you for the ride, Captain." Natasha giggled. "I thought you might appreciate some help."

"She _talk_?" Clint blurted out.

"She talk!" Natasha echoed. "He talk? He talk!" She giggled again. "I never had anything to say until now, when Steve showed up. He is a man from my own time, it is nice. We understand each other the best."

"Huh?" Clint blinked. "Don'..." he made a fist, hitting his thigh. "Take."

Steve felt Natasha's legs tighten as she shifted, leaning close to Clint. "It is terribly rude to ask a lady her age, Clinton. However, to save you from having to think too much, I _do_ know it's hard, Steve and I were both given variations of a serum. Had he not done something stupidly heroic back then, he would either not be here today, or just as crazy as you all say I am. Or," she straightened up, "everything may have been different. But don't worry your broken little brain, let crazy Natasha play with the alternatives."

"Natasha, play nice," Steve chided her. "Just because he has some trouble talking, it doesn't mean he's dumb."

Natasha sighed, resting her chin on Steve's shoulder. "Very well, if you truly want to ruin all my fun. Coulson is going to be looking for a new room, because Bruce did what Bruce does in his mood and went in without knocking, which made Coulson go for a knife, which made the Hulk come out. I am surprised, though, that Tony is the considerate one. He wasn't, when he was younger."

"Guilt." Clint said. "Tony guilt. Bruce...angry. Just hide well."

"And that I something that I cannot understand," Natasha mused. "Why Tony is choosing to carry around the guilt of his father. Howard certainly felt no guilt, he just felt the thrill of a new discovery. So his only child lost his leg, he's still got another one. A young man with children has brain damage now? As they said in France back in Steve's time, c'est la vie, c'est la guerre. That's life, that's war. Oh, please don't stare at me like that, Clinton. Really, what _do_ they teach children these days." She shook her head. "The idiots who say that they don't understand you aren't using their brains, it's perfectly logical just what you're saying, I just have to fill in the missing words, which isn't hard." She poked Steve. "Although maybe it's more a matter of being from our time, eh, Captain? So that is something for us to work on, absolving Tony of the guilt that he's taken on simply because of who his father was."

"People." Clint said. "Yeah?"

"People, people..." Natasha dropped off of Steve's back, moving around to stand in front of Clint, forcing him to stop. "People, young man, are idiots, if they cannot see that Tony is not Howard. People, young man, need to go jump off a cliff if they don't shut up, or maybe," she moved closer, staring at Clint's face. "Maybe they just need a visit from the Widow, eh?" Cackling, she twirled around, giving the two men a brief nod, then ran off.

"_Weird_." Clint said. Steve just nodded.

* * *

"Clinton Francis Barton!" Bobbi spotted the two men entering the building and stormed over. "What was all that about? I am not an, an, invalid! I am perfectly able to go out and fight when it's needed!"

Clint sighed. "Rules, Bobbi. You. Kids." Grabbing her waist, he looked at her carefully. "_You_ safe."

"Nothing dangerous was happening, Clint." Bobbi frowned. "And what about _you_, you big lunk?"

Steve didn't allow Clint to respond. "How are Coulson and Tony?"

The distraction worked, and Bobbi gave Clint a firm look before turning to Steve. "Tony is anxiously waiting your return, and I've asked Coulson to stay with the kids for a bit. Clint, we're cleaning up right now, let's go."

Steve paused in the doorway, watching Tony. "I have a strict no lurking policy, either come in or leave me the hell alone. I'm busy."

"Bobbi said you wanted to see me, Tony?" Steve moved closer. "Bruce, Hulk, whatever and whoever that thing was, is off in the general direction you wanted."

"Thanks." Tony nodded. "I need your shield." As Steve passed it over, he continued, "because I was thinking that maybe, just maybe, there's something special about what it's made out of. You said it could stop bullets, and nothing this light, or this thin, should have been able to do that. So what makes it so special? That's what I want to figure out." Without looking, he grabbed a journal and tossed it at Steve. "Here. Start reading. Tell me what you find."

"What are you looking for?" Steve turned to the first page, realizing that it was full of technical terms. "I don't think I can understand all this."

"Just look for anything to do with your shield, or metal alloys." Tony glanced over his shoulder at Steve. "Don't try to understand it. Hello, Fury, it's not so nice to see you descend from your tower. Come to make me mad, too? You can obviously see what happened with Bruce. Don't think I don't know what you said to him the other day."

Steve turned around, dropping the journal in shock. "You!"

"Know him, do you?" Tony was watching the two men closely. "That's mildly disturbing, I will admit. You didn't say anything about knowing Fury last night."

"Hello, Captain." Fury nodded. "Surprised to see that you survived."

"Sergeant Fury ran a squad during World War Two." Steve didn't take his gaze away from Fury. "And you do the math, Tony. He's around 100 years old, so you'll excuse me if I didn't think that the Fury I knew was the same man as your Fury. Natasha mentioned the successors and the son last night, I just assumed that your Fury was the son or grandson of mine."

"Fascinating. So, Fury, how'd you do it? And why?" Tony's eyes narrowed.

"Not relevant. It's Colonel now, Captain."

"There are no more military ranks, Fury, seeing as there is no more military. Don't pull that here. So either say why you're invading my space or get out." Tony snapped, shifting his glare from Fury to Steve. "Steve, you want to talk about old times with him, _don't_ do it in here. Just leave the shield. Won't promise that you'll get it all back in one piece if you do, though."

"I think I'll stay." Steve shook his head, picking the journal up. "Maybe we can talk later, sir, but I'd rather have my belongings stay whole." He saw, out of the corner of his eyes, the tension in Tony's shoulder's ease slightly. "Catch up and all that. You'd probably know what happened to the rest of my squad the best." He watched as Fury's one eye narrowed, and pointed at the shield sitting in front of Tony. "That's all that I've got, sir, that and the clothes on my back." He plucked at one sleeve. "Although I'm not really holding out that they'll stay together. I'm just thankful that Bobbi said she found some more clothing for me to wear."

Fury frowned. "Your decision. I just hope that you make the right one." He turned on his heel and left.

Steve let out a sigh of relief. "I remember him, slightly. His squad ran into mine a few times, I taught them a few tricks, but he's...changed. The Fury I remember would never have done anything that could potentially harm his country."

"I'll give him one thing; he may not have had much of a choice." Tony shook his head, bending back over Steve's shield. "But he still encouraged my father."

"The Howard Stark I knew wouldn't have done anything that would have affected the USA that much, either." Steve sat down, leaning back against the wall. "Guess I really didn't know him all that well, after all."

"No, that was one nice thing about him." Tony didn't turn around. "Until the day he died, he swore that everything he did was to make it all right again. I still haven't figured out what he meant, but I haven't read all his journals. I just haven't had the time, and he wrote a lot. Unless Bruce managed to wreck it when he Hulked out today, they're all kept in the trunk. What are some of the dates in the one you've got there?"

"July 4, 1975," Steve read. "Sent Romanoff to get what may be the key. It's in Africa, some little country that I've never heard of before. She swears up and down that she can get in and out without the Reds realizing it; I just hope she's not playing us. It gets confusing after that." He looked up. "Reds?"

"Communists. I know that you had them in the forties."

"True, but hadn't heard that name for them before. Although I was focused on other things." Steve shrugged. "Want me to read more?"

"Not out loud. I wonder..." Tony trailed off. "Stay here." He hurried out of the room.

Steve kept skimming over the parts that he couldn't understand, then stopped. Carefully picking up his shield, he used his finger to hold his place in the book, before going to find somebody. He ran into Tony, and just stared at him. "I found it out."

"Found what out?" Tony glanced between Steve and the journal.

"_Everything_." Steve snapped, then tried to control his anger. "Natasha, if you are here, I'd like to talk to you. I want answers, _right now_."

"Let's take this out of the public areas," Tony suggested. "People around here have a...thing about anger."

Steve followed Tony back to the workroom, sticking close to the door. "How much do you really know, Tony."

"Nuclear holocaust. Massive EMP that wiped out everything else. Now we're back in the damned dark ages. Why?" Tony's eyes narrowed.

"He truly is an innocent, Steve." Natasha slipped through the door. "He has no idea what you are talking about. Trust me."

"I don't know if I can rightly do that." Steve frowned. "What else do you know?"

Natasha looked at what he was holding. "Ah. I...see. Everything I know is written in there. I will go pack and meet you at the Brooklyn Bridge tonight, then? Seeing as how neither of us will be all that welcome, if you continue on with this. Tony, should you or Bruce come, I will have a gift for you." She started to leave, only to be stopped by Steve grabbing her arm. "I shall wait, then?"

"Steve, what is going on." Tony tilted his head to the side, watching the two. "I'm an innocent? Widow, you're crazier than I thought, calling me that."

"Sins of the father being passed down to the son?" Natasha leaned forward. Steve let her. "It is time for you to stop that, Tony, because your father was guilty of nothing more than being _controlled_, of having his desire for knowledge and to make everything _right_ again shaped into what somebody else wanted. I had to watch his downfall, for far too long, the long, slow descent into _madness_, and what was worse, the fact that he _knew_ it."

"I...what?" Tony reeled back, looking like he had been punched. "I don't understand."

Natasha nodded. "Let crazy Natasha speak, then, and maybe then you will. Or, even better, let crazy Natasha go do what she needs to do," she wrenched her arm free, "and let the man out of his own time talk, and you'll listen better. It is up to you to _hear_ the words, Tony, and then it is up to you to _make_ them yours. At dusk, Captain, if we are to make the tide." She vanished.

"Is, is this something that the others should hear, too?" Tony had slumped down on his stool and was bent over, taking deep breaths. "Or do you just want to break it all to me, first, and then it can be spread around."

"I don't know." Steve watched Tony carefully. "Are they likely to try and hurt me for revealing all this?"

"I don't know. It depends on what you've got to say."

"Tony?" Bobbi stuck her head in the room. "Did you know that the Widow talks? She just came and told Clint and I that there was news and to come find you."

Tony laughed. "Guess you don't have that option, Steve. So, what's the story?"

Steve waited until Clint and Bobbi had taken their own positions along the wall, before opening the journal. "September 24, 1976. With the leftover metal that was used in Captain America's shield, we were successful. The Council ordered us to not wait. They didn't tell us how the targets were chosen, but we were ordered to fire two missiles, as soon as they were brought to the ship. Target one is in the USSR, not far from Moscow. Target two is Missouri. Romanoff says that they've set the two worst potential targets possible, but the arguments from the Council make sense." He looked around, carefully watching faces, before continuing. "October 7, 1976. I have damned myself, thrice over. Once, for being swayed by pretty words. Twice, for allowing myself to be drawn deeper and deeper into all this. Three times, for ignoring my family and allowing it all to get this far. What have we done."

"Mean what." Clint's voice was flat, his eyes narrowed.

"It means, featherhead," Tony's voice was faint. "That we did all this...to ourselves."


	4. Chapter 4

Meet the real bad guys. Natasha redefines the word "gift." Many thanks for reading, this was never meant to be long.

* * *

"We were following orders." Fury's voice made Steve jump. "The Council was playing all sides, and people just didn't give a damn." He dropped a bag next to Steve. "For you, Captain. I want you gone. Today."

"The hell he is." Tony snapped. "He's the only one who's been talking straight to me, Fury."

"Fine." Fury sounded calm. "You want the straight talk, Stark? How about how Daddy dearest was collaborating with the enemy? That even _after_ the EMP triggered other EMPs around the globe, the Council was still pulling his strings? He knew exactly what he was doing. Romanoff had it right, though, he was incredibly crazy by the end. Still, he followed the lead of the Council. We all did. They saw you as a threat, had actually ordered him to kill you, but he wasn't too far gone to obey. The fact that you only lost your leg was what got him killed. I put the damned knife in him myself. It was a mercy killing." He turned, looking at Clint and Bobbi. "Same with you two. You were getting too smart, too involved, too close to the truth, so they had to do something to distract you. Family didn't work, so again, they tried the lethal route, taking out Clint. That's also why they went after Coulson; they figured that with all of you being out of the picture, their rule would be complete. They just didn't expect what actually happened. They'd planned for that explosion to take out the three of you."

"And what about you, sir." Steve's hand tightened on his shield. "How do you know all this."

Fury tossed a second bag. It landed at Tony's feet with a dull thump. "Howard's _other_ journals, as well as notes and records taken from the Council member that lived near a SHIELD base. Romanoff may have...taken care of him. And now, Captain Rogers, I'm ordering you out of my territory by tonight. Anybody who objects can go with him."

"How were they actually communicating, then." Tony was staring at the wall. "I mean, it was a little hard to travel and all."

"Shielded communications. They had planned for the world to go dark." Fury frowned. "Now, it's getting pretty late, and if the Captain isn't gone and off my island by the time it's dark, he's going to find out just how loyal my two watchdogs are." He gestured at Clint and Bobbi, before turning to leave. "And, for what it's worth, I'm sorry, Captain."

"Me too." Steve bent down and picked up the bag, slinging it over one shoulder. "Especially since the Sergeant Fury I knew would have never even dreamed about working against his country. I don't think you can hold a candle to the Fury I once knew and respected." He pushed past Fury, ignoring the voices behind him.

"Steve, wait!" Bobbi ran and grabbed Steve's arm. "Look, it won't take that long to get off the island, come change first and take some food with you. Fury's...he's stressed out."

"I don't know if I can feel quite right taking all that from you now." Steve shook his arm loose and saw Bobbi reel back as if he'd punched her. "Seeing as how your commanding officer has made his wishes known, and I'm really not quite sure who I can believe."

"Stop." Clint's voice was tight. "Don' talk Bobbi like that. She true."

"She's not." Steve stared straight at the wall. "But right now...I don't think I can truly feel right taking food from your mouths and getting you into trouble with anybody else here."

"What's wrong, Steve." Bobbi moved around, standing right in front of him. "We owe you, after all. And," she glanced at Clint. "sure, we obey Fury, but I think that we can spare a couple hours, yeah babe?" At Clint's nod, she continued. "I've had nine kids, Steve, I think I can tell when something's wrong. Walk with us."

Clint darted forward, grabbing the bag from Steve's hand. "C'mon, Cap. Listen wife. Owe us. Owe you."

"Fine." Steve sighed. "I'm confused."

A snort told him that Tony was listening in, as well. "And you're surprised by that because? C'mon, Cap. I want to go with you to meet with the Widow, so get a move on."

"Tony, shut up." Clint's voice was surprisingly clear. "Cap? Prob?" He started walking.

"I don't know what to do." Steve let his frustration out. "I don't know what's going on, how to survive in this world. Everything, everybody, that I know – knew – is gone." He slammed his fist against the wall. "I went from being a skinny kid from Brooklyn, to a soldier fighting the good fight, to...what? And then to find out that the people I was fighting for were the ones who ended up doing all _this_."

"I'm sorry, Steve." Bobbi wrapped an arm around his waist. "I guess we didn't think."

"_Hormones_. Lots." Clint muttered. Tony laughed.

"Shut up, Clint." Bobbi snapped, before looking up at Steve. "In here. Take a bath, there's clean clothes, too. I'll go get some food put together, see what Fury gave you, and then we can all take a walk. How about that?" Steve didn't argue, finding it easier to just obey orders.

He didn't feel better when he stepped back into the hall and saw Bobbi and Clint standing there, both armed, and Tony leaning against a wall, looking even more annoyed than before. "Well?"

"Leggo." Clint jerked his head towards the stairs. "Have, have," he made a face, turning to Bobbi. "Babe?"

"Since Tony's coming along, we have a ride. Also since the Widow said that she'd meet you at her boat, and I don't recognize the name of where she'd meet you. Tony pointed it out on a map, it'll take a little bit to get there. Horses will make it faster." Bobbi nodded firmly.

"Bruce will be upset that he didn't make it back in time to give you some parting anger." Tony had a bitter twist to his lips. "And I don't know where these two stashed Coulson, so I'm going to have a chance to enjoy seeing him get upset at the fact that he couldn't say goodbye."

The rest of the trip was quiet, and everybody jumped slightly when Natasha appeared in the back of the cart next to Steve. "Tony." Her voice was the most somber that Steve could remember hearing. "Because I do not want the rest of you to see anything more, here. This may help you in your searching. Some of the last of the metal from the Captain's shield that was mined, ever, as well as the notes that I had taken about what I saw while I was retrieving it." She dropped a small parcel on the floor of the cart, then stood up and jumped over the side. "Hawkeye, Mockingbird, I thank you for the gift. I shall return it in better condition than you left it, whenever I return next." She smiled then, and Steve narrowed his eyes at the pure trickery in it as she pulled at Bobbi's arm, forcing the woman to lean over. "Don't worry, it was perfectly agreeable."

Clint's hands tightened on his bow. "What take."

"Now, now, if you can't figure it out now, then you will when you return." Natasha giggled. "Shall we, Captain?"

"No." Clint jumped down, standing in front of Natasha. "Need see. Fury say."

"Fury," Natasha calmly beckoned to Steve. "Is an idiot, young man, and since he has decided that us relics of the past are no longer to be trusted, we are gone, Steve and I. You do not allow anybody into your private area, I do the same. Don't even think of following, you will not like the consequences, nor shall Fury, or Coulson, or anybody else. I plan on taking the good Captain far, far away from here." She glanced up at the sky. "I'm thinking...warm."

"Let the two of them go, bird brain." Tony was squinting at what Natasha had given him in the half-light. "I need to get this stuff back. I have another idea." He looked over at Steve. "Captain, it was a pleasure and all that, maybe if you give it a few months Fury won't be as mad and you can come back. I...I think that I'll miss you." He sounded confused. "So yes. Goodbye. Bruce'd say bye, too, but he's not here so I'll just talk for him. 'Goodbye, man who I still don't believe was born nearly a century ago, don't do anything too stupid.'"

Steve nodded, climbing out of the cart and picking up his bag and shield. "Thank you all, for everything. Just sorry that it had to end like this." He looked at everybody, then continued with a firm nod, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. "Good bye." Picking up his bag, he glanced at Natasha and then started walking down the street.

* * *

Steve hadn't known what to expect when he had thought of Natasha's boat, but one that was very clearly motorized and working was not it. "Um," he said, stopping and staring at the lights reflecting off the water.

"The Council had many, many contingency plans and storage spots. Natasha has many, many fuel caches." Natasha led the way through piles of rubble to a board acting as a gangplank. "Natasha is also a very, very good scavenger and remembers where the big boats liked to go and how to siphon fuel. This is what the Council member that I took care of lived on, and to the victor goes the spoils. Come along, Steve. Please don't go through any closed doors without permission. I do not like my boat being damaged by thrown knives. It took long enough to fix it up the first time."

"Thrown knives...Natasha, this gift you mentioned. What was it?" Steve hurried to follow Natasha, stopping short when he saw Coulson sitting in a chair. "Hello, Agent Coulson. Are you joining us?"

"Apparently." Coulson nodded down at his wrists where they were tied to the chair. "She promised better food, for one, and secondly, I was not allowed much of a choice. I suspect that the only reason I am still calm is that she hit me over the head and I just woke up."

Natasha gave Steve a sly smile. "You started Clint and Bobbi on the path to fixing themselves and their relationships, not only with each other, but with the rest of their family and friends. Your arrival gave Tony the push he needed to start facing his past and maybe, just maybe, realize that he is indeed not responsible for his father's deeds. He could have figured everything out years ago, Steve, he just didn't want to read his father's journals and face the truth. Bruce...there is no fixing Bruce, not without him wanting to be fixed. Fury is broken beyond repair, no matter what people may say. Coulson, too, needs fixing. You can fix him. You will fix him. As Tony so eloquently put it, your 'problem' appears to be the ability to change everything. So far it has seemed to be for the better." Natasha nodded. "And now, before they discover just what exactly the crazy Widow has done, and before Coulson gets over his shock, let us be off. I want to go to Chile and feed my curiosity about what is all the way down there, and see how you end up fixing me."

* * *

Steve leaned back against the side of the cabin, staring at the approaching land that was once New York City. They hadn't made it to Chile, not after Natasha had stopped at an abandoned island in the Caribbean, but she'd shown him enough of the new world that he'd decided that it was just easier to stick around her and let himself go quietly crazy. Every group of people he'd met were just too different for him and made too many demands. A whistle had him looking around, realizing that they were a lot closer to shore than he'd realized, and he jumped up to help Natasha.

There was less rubble than he'd remembered, and more trees, as well as a feeling of being watched. Steve found his hand tightening on the knife he'd stuck in his belt. Coulson somehow picked up on his increased tension, and lightly squeezed his shoulder. "There are people watching. I can hear them."

Natasha was humming lightly. "I wonder if they would like a show? No? Ah well. I shall go on ahead?"

"Stay. I don't want you running off and leaving me to explain what you did." Steve gave Natasha a pointed look. "Considering how well that worked the last time."

"I wanted coffee. And tea, and everything else that they grow so well there. And they liked you, until they didn't. At least you were able to fix your pants, yes?" Natasha giggled lightly. "Even if you didn't get to sit down for a few days." An arrow suddenly hit the ground in front of her foot. "What is this?"

"Gotta lotta nerve, coming back like this." Steve turned his head away from Natasha, spotting Bobbi and Clint standing by a barricade. "Especially after what you did."

Coulson had his head tilted to one side, listening. "Hello Bobbi, how are you doing?" Dropping his hand from Steve's shoulder, he took a couple careful steps forward. "Very nice to hear your voice again."

Steve watched as Clint's jaw tightened, and he nudged Bobbi with an elbow. Bobbi turned to look at her husband, nodding. "Coulson can come through. Widow, not much we can do to stop you. Captain, stay there."

Natasha lightly vaulted over the wires, slipping between Clint and Bobbi and flinging her arms over their shoulders. "Tell me, silent one, was my gift well-liked?" Steve watched in amusement as she lightly grabbed at the bowstring. "If it wasn't, maybe I shan't return the gift that I was given."

"Wouldn't rightly call kidnapping a _gift_, there, Widow." Bobbi was visibly tense. "Coulson, you okay?"

"Obviously." Coulson nodded, still carefully moving forward. Giving up, he turned around and looked in Steve's direction. "Some help please, Captain." As Steve moved up, he continued, "rather amazing, what a year without stress will do for the mind. Along with good food, people who don't show a level of over-protectiveness that is difficult to live with, and an amazing feeling of freedom. For me, it did turn into a gift. Clint, I know you're there. Have you completely lost your ability to speak?"

"N." Clint grunted. "Most. Why?" His voice cracked slightly on the last word, and Bobbi nodded, looking like she was holding back tears.

"Poor Bobbi. Poor Clinton." Natasha cooed. "Please allow Steve through; he's Coulson's eyes for now. Don't worry, he won't be staying long. Nor shall the crazy Widow, and this time the only things she will take without permission aren't alive. Steve has fixed all that he will fix, the rest is up to you."

Coulson and Steve had made it to the others, and Coulson dropped Steve's arm. "Bobbi. Come here. Walk with me, and tell me what's happened."

Natasha shifted back and stood next to Steve, playing with an arrow she'd taken from Clint's quiver. "I cannot feel bad about what I did. It is no longer in my nature to feel regrets like that."

"Somehow, I don't, either." Steve nodded in agreement. "So either I'm just as crazy as you are, or it wasn't a bad thing that you did."

"I was naughty. Naughty Natasha. Wicked Widow." Natasha stared after Coulson, Clint, and Bobbi. "But look at them and tell me that you aren't jealous of what they have obtained now, what you have given them." She rested her head on Steve's arm. "Come, Steve, we aren't needed here anymore. I will go see if Tony succeeded, and you can return to the boat." She sounded like she was fighting back tears of her own. "I cannot stay and watch any more than is needed to feed my curiosity anymore."

Nodding, Steve turned around. He had no desire to see what he couldn't have with the others, and traveling the world with Natasha was the only option he could think of. A shout had him turning back around.

"Come with us!" Bobbi was waving her arm at him. Slipping free of Coulson's grasp, she ran back to Steve, standing on her toes and lightly kissing his cheek. "Tony will want to see you and show you the things he's done, and I want to show you our youngest. We named her Peggy, after the stories about you."

"I'm sorry." Steve shook his head. "Maybe next time, but for now, Natasha and I need to be moving on. She's just going to go check up on Tony, but then we're off." Feeling Clint's eyes on him, he leaned down and returned Bobbi's kiss. "Good luck." He looked straight at Clint, and, with a nod, turned to leave. If he hurried, he'd have the boat ready to leave by the time Natasha returned.

* * *

Steve was standing in the bow, staring into the darkness, when he felt the engines start and the boat slowly start to move away from the shore. Turning, he saw Natasha standing at the wheel, and moved to join her. "He succeeded." She muttered in a low tone. "He succeeded in turning some lights back on, and did not even need the metal, nor my notes." She sighed as Steve wrapped one arm around her shoulders, and leaned up against him. "I took my book and the metal back, since it is dangerous; it was used in the bombs, to create that pulse that reflected around the world, and I do not want to risk anything more. I haven't decided if I am going to simply drop it into the ocean one day, or keep it around, just in case. And now, my relic Captain, what would you like to see?"

"I think," Steve started, thinking over the past year, "I think that maybe I'd like to go find the warm again." He felt Natasha nod, and just stood there, watching the stars.


End file.
